"What? What have I said? You are beautiful you know, Clem, and—"
"Beauty!" she cried again, and turned upon him with clenched hands and dark eyes aflame. "I hate it—oh, I hate it!" and with the words she stamped her foot passionately, and turning, sped away, banging the door behind her.
"Now, upon my soul!" said the Viscount, taking off his hat and ruffling up his auburn locks, "of all the amazing, contradictory creatures in the world, Bev! I've known Clemency—hum—a goodish time, my dear fellow; but never saw her like this before, I wonder what the deuce—"
But at this juncture a door at the further end of the kitchen opened, and a man entered. He, like the Bo'sun, was merry of eye, breezy of manner, and hairy of visage; but there all similarity ended, for, whereas the Bo'sun was a square man, this man was round—round of head, round of face, and round of eye. At the sight of the Viscount, his round face expanded in a genial smile that widened until it was lost in whisker, and he set two fingers to his round forehead and made a leg.
"Lord love me, my Lord, and is it you?" he exclaimed, clasping the hand the Viscount had extended. "Now, from what that imp of a bye—axing his parding—your tiger, Mr. Milo, told me, I were to expect you at nine sharp—and here it be nigh on to ten—"
"True, Jack; but then both he and I reckoned without my father. My
father had the bad taste to—er—disagree with me, hence I am late,
Jack, and breakfastless, and my friend Mr. Beverley is as hungry as
I am. Bev, my dear fellow, this is a very old friend of mine—Jack
Truelove, who fought under my uncle at Trafalgar."
"Servant, sir!" says Jack, saluting Barnabas.
"The 'Belisarius,' Seventy-four!" smiled Barnabas.
"Ay, ay," says Jack, with a shake of his round head, "the poor old
'Bully-Sawyer'—But, Lord love me! if you be hungry—"
"Devilish!" said the Viscount, "but first, Jack—what's amiss with
Clemency?"